


Lvl Up!

by FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Highschool! Au, M/M, gamer!au, mmorpg!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings/pseuds/FallenAngelsWithMagpieWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is in his final year of high school. He's trying to get a scholarship through baseball, go to college, make his family proud. The only sort of relief he gets out of his daily life is one thing.</p><p> Supernatural: Myth, Monsters, and Mayhem, an online multiplayer game.</p><p>He thinks it makes him a giant nerd-which Sam kind reminds him it does, and that's okay-but he chooses to keep his actual life and game separate, that is until he gets royally schooled by a mysterious angel character.</p><p>A strange sort of friendship blooms between the two, neither realizing how much it's going to spill out and effect their day to day lives, till it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Celestiel00

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural and all it's characters do not belong to me.  
> I haven't been playing online games all that long, so apologies is the game play is wrong.  
> I'm going to aim to post a new chapter every other week, or as often as I can with my schedule. More likely to be done in the summer.

The alarm blared out, shrill and irritating and everything an alarm was meant to be yet everyone hated so completely, and Dean Winchester was no exception. As the screeching went on his arm shot out, attempting to silence the damn thing, hand fruitlessly slamming into everything but. Corner, a fold up pocket knife that fuck just hit the floor, bottle of water, a half empty box of tissues, cell phone, and shit shit shit where was-

With a heavy hand and a relieved sigh he finally pressed the damned snooze button. The room slipped into silence beyond a slight ruffling of sheets and his own breathe. “Another day,” he gave a sigh before sitting up, ruffling at his hair before tossing the covers off and went about getting ready for the day.

Any other day. 

Dean Winchester was a seventeen year old senior of Lawrence High School in Kansas. Handsome, on the varsity baseball team, had a collective of friends surrounding him and a good lot of broken hearts left in his wake. Dean Winchester was the attractive, freckled, green eyed teen that other guys wanted to be, and all the girls wanted to be with. 

“Come down and eat Dean!” 

“I’m comin’ i’m coming’,” he called back, scooping up his backpack and making his way downstairs. As he rounded the corner he sent a smile towards the two in the kitchen along with a “Mornin’.” Sam, his long haired thirteen year old and currently a freshman brother, and his mom, Mary, turned their attention to him. Mary gave him a gentle smile of her own while Sam went back to munching away on cereal.

“Morning, honey,” Mary said as Dean opened a cupboard up and fished out some cereal of his own, dumping a good amount of it, and some milk into a bowl before sliding into a seat across from Sam. “I was just telling your brother that he’s going to have to wait at your practice for you after school, your dad is going to be working late again.”

Sam didn’t seem all to beaten up over the fact, going on spooning another few cheerios into his mouth. It wasn’t like Sam constantly stuck around through his practices when he had to stay. He was sometimes in the library, doing whatever nerdy brothers did, study probably, or hang out with friends that had stuck around. Even if he did stick to the bleachers he was fine enough to read and just wait. No skin off his teeth. Besides, he enjoyed any time with Dean rather then their dad.

“Alright, time’s a wastin’,” Dean said once breakfast was done, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder as he went for the key holder, plucking up his keys and headed for the door.

“Hold on Dean!” Sam called, scrambling to drink up the last of his milk and bring his own backpack over his shoulders, jogging out after his older brother. Dean couldn’t help but grin, as the shaggy haired kid came running out after him. 

“Hustle Sammy before I leave you behind!” He said, bolting to the car, unlocking the 1967 Chevy Impala and slipping into the front seat, quickly putting the key and starting it, the car roaring to life as Sam sped up, grabbing at the handle for the door, both of them knowing fully well Dean would never leave his brother behind.

“Jerk,” Sam muttered as he shut the door, clipping in his seat belt.

“Bitch,” Dean said, sending the other a look from the corner of his eyes before spotting his mom on the porch, giving them a wave, one in which he returned. “Later mom!” He called, Sam giving a smile and a wave himself before they started off for school.

The Lawrence Lions. Whose pride and joy was their baseball team, led by Bobby Singer, a man who’d become like a second father to most of the players on the team, the baseball diamond practically their second home. While Coach Singer had done a damn good job in getting the team at top shape they hadn’t won a championship in over 30 years. Still, they’d come close, second and third over the last few years, always close, but no cigar.

At least for now, Dean thought to himself, pausing in front of the school's trophy case. While other areas had small singled off shelves, some with trophies, along with pictures of teams, the most prominent grouping was that of the baseball team. Taking up shelves with plaques and trophies and images of the teams that had passed through the halls. 

Hiking his bag higher up on his shoulder he eyed a particularly empty place on one of the highest shelves, for this year, his last year. Being captain had up and passed him by in favor of Gordon Walker, who he thought was a giant prick, but his show no mercy do what has to be done attitude had won them a good lot of games this season, so who was he to complain? But if he could get them a championship, get VIP by the end of the season, those college recruiters that were certain to start coming around might actually turn their eyes his way and he might have a chance at a scholarship. 

The idea of it alone had a tense clench coming to his stomach. His dad had voiced on multiple occasions how baseball was what Dean was made for, what he was good for. If he missed this opportunity what else was left for him?

“Brother you keep starin’ at them trophies people will start ta’ worry.” Dean snapped out of his voice with the drawl of a tone, turning to a grinning Benny Lafitte. The bulky student had transferred last school year and managed his way onto the baseball team. He was bulkier, built for hitting and catching, but not so much running. Some had been pissed at Coach Singer for letting the guy on the team so late in the game, but the guy could hit runs like nobodies business, and it’d only taken a few practices with him before he and Dean had become friends. 

Pulling the guy in for the usual bro-not-but-still-kind-hug Dean gave a laugh. “Ah sorry, zoning out there.”

“Yeah I can see that,” Benny replied, raising a brow. “Alright?”

Giving a wave of his hand he nodded. “Yeah yeah, i’m fine.” He sent one last brief glance the trophy cases way before he and Benny headed off towards their first classes of the day.

With a crack the ball went soaring through the air, Dean dropping the bat and bolting for first. Around him his team mates moved to stop him. Some ran for the ball, one readied himself at the plate, but by the time he’d reached it the ball had yet to be retrieved, and Dean smirked. He was notorious for going after bases even when it was probably wiser to stay put. Even when he heard Gordon-who was on the sidelines in that moment-call for him to hold, he took off for second. 

“Winchester!” He heard shouted, but he didn’t really care, he landed the base and held there once the ball was retrieved. He licked at his lips, grinning before he noticed the figure walking towards him, and sighed.

Gordon Walker was a senior, like him, and while on first meeting with Dean back in their sophomore year he’d seemed alright, his true colors had eventually showed, which were the same colors showing now, rage in his face.

“I told you to hold Winchester! If you can’t listen to your captain you can bet your ass we’ll replace you,” he growled, to which Dean scoffed.

“Please. As if Bobby would let you. You’re a captain, Walker, not the god damn coach.” Dean growled, the two of them getting up in each others face, the rest of the team started to pull in. People knew Dean had been clawing for Captain, and even worse didn’t much like Gordon, and people also knew Gordon was a pretty big douche bag. A physical fist fight wouldn’t be all that far fetched, but probably something that would probably be best avoided.

“Dean,” he heard from behind, not even turning to know it was Benny, considering the voice. Whatever words of wisdom or possibly just backing down he might’ve offered were interrupted with Coach Singer pushing through the mass, eyes narrowing from beneath his baseball call.

“Alright you idjits, can we stop squabbling like a bunch of girls and get on with the game,” he barked. The two didn’t immediately part but eventually Gordon rolled his eyes, stepping away. 

Dean grit his teeth, eyes narrowing as he turned away. His eyes drew across the stands where he paused staring as Sam stared back, a worried expression seen quite easily on his face. Great. His brother had seen him almost get into a fight. Great. 

With a huff and and adjustment of his cap the practice went on, Dean making a point to not do anything to get himself too noticed during the remainder of the time. Overall it worked pretty well, even if jackass Gordon was still giving him dirty looks from across the field.

By the end he was heading to the locker room and showering before the captain ended up trying to talk crap here, where Bobby wasn’t around to stop them from duking it out. Eager not to get into that sort of spat, especially with Sam probably waiting for him now, he hurried on out of the locker room, ignoring the rest of the teams chatter. He’d see them all tomorrow, bailing out early wouldn’t be a problem.

He was already out, Sam waiting at the entrance when a hollered, “Winchester!” stopped him in his tracks, cringing as he turned back to see Bobby appearing from the locker room adjacent office. Judging by the stern look on his face Dean was about to get an earful.

“Coach,” Dean said hesitantly, hiking his gym bag full of equipment up on his shoulder higher. As the older man approached he could feel Sam’s eyes digging into his back and he cringed further.

“Boy I don’t understand why you gotta push Walker’s buttons.” Bobby said with a heavy sigh and a furrowing of his brows. 

“He’s a prick,” Dean said automatically, pausing after his words and clearing his throat. “I had a chance and I took it. I don’t get why he’s got his panties in a bunch over it.” Dean’s words had trailed off, muttering on before Bobby shook his head.

“He may be what he may be but he’s the captain. Leading is sort of in the job title. And this isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to ‘em.” Bobby pointed out, crossing his arms. 

“Well when he actually leads properly maybe I would.” Dean said with a narrowing of his eyes, even if they were currently fixed on the ground. Being defiant of Bobby’s wishes, or any of the adults in his life, really, wasn’t something he was used to doing. 

There was a bit of silence between the two of them before a sigh escaped Bobby, a hand coming to wipe at his face before fixing Dean with a look. “This wouldn’t happen to be about him being captain and not you, would it?” The older man asked, to which Dean didn’t say anything. “Look here Son, you’re an excellent player, a good kid, but if I thought you were ready, I would’ve made you captain. And for the record, scouters don’t snag up players who stir the pot. Just think about that.” 

With those words he turned around and headed back inside, leaving Dean staring at the ground, mulling over his words. After a few passing moments the older Winchester felt a tug at his shirt, which snapped him from his thoughts and he turned his head to see Sam looking concerned.

“You alright?” He asked. 

Dean forced a smile to his face, reaching out to ruffle his brothers hair, who attempted to stop him, unsuccessfully. “Yeah yeah, don’t worry kid, your awesome brother is all good.”

“Who said you were awesome?” Sam asked with a smile, to which Dean rolled his eyes and started off for the parking lot, Sam in tow, looking still marginally concerned when his brother turned away. 

Dean was pretty good at ignoring what was bothering him and going on with his life for the sake of not upsetting anyone else around him. When they’d arrived home, just the two of them, Sam had tried to get him to talk about practice, about Gordon, about Bobby, but Dean masterfully avoided the subject, and by masterfully he meant just laughing a bit and heading to another room in the house. Bathroom, kitchen, his room, didn’t matter. When Mary had arrived home from her shift at the dinner down the road Sam had dropped it with a pointed look from his brother, to which he was rewarded with the grandest of bitch faces, but at least he left it alone.  
Truthfully, Dean was scared as all hell. He wasn’t particularly good at math, or science, or anything, really, beyond sports. He tried hard, sure, but school was school, and Dean was not a school guy. In trying his best he got mostly passable grades to be on the team, and that seemed to be enough for the school, but if acting like he did was going to get him overlooked by scouters, what hope was there for him? He needed to be seen, picked up, handed a scholarship, otherwise any hope of going on professionally or at least making something of himself was out the window. 

Dean sat the dinner table, prodding his meatloaf half heartedly. He knew as far as playing it cool went he was doing a pretty piss poor job. He could feel glances between his mom and Sam, tossed around the table between them, back at him, and he was about ready to be asked to be excused, better that then one of them caving in and asking him what was up. However, perhaps maybe by some miracle, depending on how you looked at it, the questions didn’t come as the front door opened and shut, dropping of bags and heavy boots through the hallway and into the kitchen.

John Winchester wasn’t at all soft around the edges. He was a man’s man by any and all definitions, and Dean took a lot of pride in that, learned from that. Even now as the man stepped into the room his back went a bit straighter, shoulders back. “Hey dad,” he greeted, followed by his mom and Sam giving a hello.

The eldest Winchester ruffled Sam’s hair, who smiled a bit, John returning the tiny gesture and leaning in to give Mary a quick kiss on the cheek before setting his hand on Dean’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. 

“Your foods in the microwave,” Mary said as he cut at her own meal. He started up the thing before moving to the fridge and grabbing a beer and opening it, turning back to his family as he waited for the food to be done.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” John asked with a raising of his brow.

To which Sam almost immediately answered, “Dean almost got into a fight with this guy during practice.” Dean immediately glared at his little brother, who looked off as if he’d said nothing, while his parents turned to him.

“What? Dean you shouldn’t be fighting,” Mary said with a frown.

“I didn’t actually do it,” Dean was quick to say, jabbing extremely hard at his uneaten food. “Even if he did deserve it,” he muttered, mouth snapping shut as his father gave a stern ‘Dean.’

He didn’t need to be lectured twice in one day. 

“He did kind of deserve it,” he heard Sam pipe in, Dean unable to resist a short laugh before he snapped a hand over his mouth, looking to Sam who went on eating his veggies innocently. 

“Deserving it or not, Dean, you should not be getting into fights, especially during practice, what if a recruiter had been stopping by.” John said as the microwave went on, turning to pluck out the plate and slide into the empty chair at the table. “You know me and your mother can’t afford a university. The only way it’s going to happen is if you get a scholarship. We’re already betting on Sam getting the same thing for his academics, it’s up to you to not screw up baseball, you hear me? Especially over stupid things like fighting.” John looked at him pointedly before taking a swig of his beer and grabbing a forkful of potatoes.

No one seemed to give two shits that Gordon was a prick and he should honestly be the captain. He just couldn’t fuck up, for the scholarship. “Right, I get it dad.”

“Bobby already told him all that,” Sam said aloud, Dean making a point to do or say nothing this time around.

“Well maybe hearing it twice will make it actually sink in,” John said simply enough, and Dean felt any remaining appetite seep out of him. It wasn’t like his dad was abusive, not intentionally anyway, but his words, even the simplest, meaningless ones, cut deep sometimes. Dean wasn’t good at anything beyond sports, he’d accepted that much about himself already. He couldn’t fuck this up. He was only ever going to make something useful of himself if he got that scholarship.

That’s all that mattered.

Now, Dean Winchester to his friends, his peers, and his family, was no more then the average ‘jock’. Athletic, arrogant, and handsome. He’d gladly admit that up and down, with a wink and a grin. But there was something only one other knew, and that was simply because Sam Winchester rather enjoyed coming into Dean’s room randomly.

The first time he’d caught Dean he’d panicked enough to knock the keyboard from his desk and hit the floor rather hard. His father had shouted at them to settle down, Dean had scrambled to get up and shut the screen off, and Sam had tried to muffle his laughter. Dean managed to smack at enough keys and buttons for the screen to go black, granted with a cringe, but that hadn’t stopped Sam from seeing.

Supernatural: Myth, Monsters & Mayhem

Sam had never played, of course. But he knew people who did. An online multi player game, where you either chose the side of angels or demons as numerous different types of characters and attempt to gain power over the other. Sam had thought an interesting concept, but not enough of one to play, so when he’d stumbled on Dean doing just that, well.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Dean had begged, hands together, looking to Sam with pleading eyes, and with a sigh he’d agreed. What was the big deal, if Dean enjoyed it, what was the problem. As Dean put it, everyone would think he was a “giant nerd.”

To which Sam had replied, “Dean you are a giant nerd, that’d not bad.”

Dean had gone on a few days looking like he’d lost himself with those words. Now however, months later, Sam walked into Dean’s room a few hours after dinner, bordering on getting late, where he stood to his side and eyed the computer screen.

It was sort of funny, the avatar. It had a similar look to Dean, if he was about ten years older. Green eyes, short brown hair, that was the same, even in face shape, but he was more built, scruffy in the face, and of course, the attire. 

Black pants that were covered in animal skin like boots with fur around the opening. His top half was covered mostly by the cloak that wrapped around his characters shoulders and fit loose for his arms to move beneath, but a hint of the armor beneath peaked through. At the avatar’s waist was a belt where two large pistols were haltered, along with two chosen daggers. Dean had been rather proud when he’d gotten things for his character together, Sam remembers giving his brother a look and a smile and Dean had told him to shut up. 

“What are you again?” Sam asked as he tilted his head at the image. He could practically feel Dean’s eye roll. The dork.

“I’m a monster hunter Sam, level 37, under-.”

“Yes I know, under the Colt clan. Serving no angel or demon, just justice,” Sam recited the words with a regal tone as Dean watched him with a blunt expression, a hint of red in his cheeks with slight embarrassment. Clan’s were basically groups of people who formed a guild or group within the game. The one Dean had chosen was made for the specific purpose that they thought those both on the Demon and Angel sides were mostly dicks, so better to the lot then one specifically. He’d come in many a night with Dean irritable by the players of each side ragging on Dean and his clan, but within the group where what Dean called his friends.

Even now he could hear a few voices from the headphones that Dean had slipped to his neck, eyes back ahead as the character went along, following what appeared to be a large dog through a forest, if a bit more wild look. “How come you don’t talk to your friends on here?” Sam asked.

Dean gave a grunt and a curse as different looking sort of hound charged from the tree line close to them, smoky looking, large, and rather menacing looking. Dean started firing with his pistols, fire pistols, while the dog creature he’d been following bit and fought.

“You know why.” Dean then managed to say after a moment.

“Oh, right, because what if someone from school plays and recognizes your voice.” There was a bit of silence before Dean gave a short sigh.

“Can you direct the bitch face I know you’re giving me elsewhere. Kinda busy.” Dean muttered as he tapped at his keys, biting at his lip and gave a successful shout when the creature finally collapses, the dog like creature he’d been with shifting into a man.

From the headphone a voice does much the same and though quiet, from the distance, Sam hears, “awesome, we fuckin’ nailed that guy LZ! But you know a demon’s gotta be close by if a hellhound’s here.”

Dean started typing away immediately. 

[LedZep67] ya i know  
[LedZep67] fckn demons  
[LedZep67] get ready

Sam shook his head. ”Even is someone from school played Dean I highly doubt they’d be anyone you know enough that they’d recognize your voice. You should stop avoiding the geek in you Dean, embrace it, drink it in,” Sam pushed with a grin as he nudged his brothers shoulder who rolled his shoulder to get it off.

“Sam I would love to continue this thrilling conversation with you about embracing my geekery-which I totally don’t have-but I’m kinda-fuck there she is!” Dean shouted, Sam jumping a bit.

Demons in the game hardly looked any different from humans of the game at first, which Dean technically was. Aside from the straight up black of their eyes. Demons hid, it was part of their characters. Which made it hard for everyone else to spot them. Demons and angels were rare characters, only given to a choice few who’d beta tested the game when it’d first come out. You could become an angel or demon if you managed a few tasks, got certain rare items, and found an angel or demon to ask, who granted permission, and that was only if the amount of angels and demons aloud, given they had a set amount for the game. Doable, but incredibly hard, so most tended to not try.

The demon turned as Dean fired a flaming bullet, which she blocked and she transformed. Bat like wings spread from her back, a tail grew, claws on her hands, cloven hooves, fangs, the whole shebang, and she hissed and roared as Dean and partner attempted to get into position and attack.

While Dean tended to be more ranged, his partner was not. Turned back into the dog, it launched at the demon only to be slashed twice and knocked to the side. 

“Shit, she already took out half my health!” Sam could hear from the headphones, Dean gritting his teeth as he fired shot after shot. A few landed, not doing all that much damage. Shit.

With a wave of a hand a circling glow appeared at both sides of her. Oh shit, oh SHIT.

[LedZep67] HELL HOUNDS EMERON BACK UP

The dog creature, or, Emeron, attempted to jump back, but from the swirling glows appeared to of the same sorts of hazy ominous dogs that they’d killed before. One launched at Emeron, and on his own with half health it tore into him pretty easily, where the body slumped into a dead heap on the ground.

Dean’s eyes went wide as he helplessly fired round after round at the dogs. They did more damage to them then their master, but not enough, not for two.

[TamTam66] Bit off a bit more then you can chew zeppy, lol

Arrogant ass demons. If Dean’s character died now, sure he’d revive, but with some of his gear missing, via, I win you lose so I can take something of yours feature in the game, and with less money, and down a level. Fuck fuck fuck.

Dean was on the verge of trying to book it or try to fight. No decision needed to be made, however. With the sound of beating wings and burst of light, the demon gave a shrill cry and collapsed to the ground in a heap, the dogs dissipating.

“The heck just happened,” Sam asked as Dean eyed the screen. Not too far off Dean finally say his savior, though he really wished it wasn’t.

Adorned in white armor, trimmed in gold, bow drawn, arrow freshly released, with wild dark brown hair and bright as all hell blue yes, a bit of scruff on his clasped jaw, stood the one who’d saved Dean. He brought his weapon down as they eyed Dean’s character, approaching the dead body and collecting whatever it was they collected from their victory. What had Dean staring the most however, was not any of this, but the pair of grand wings tucked to his back, and hallow permanently glowing above his head, leaving a trail of light as he moved behind.

“Oh shit, an angel.” He heard from the headphones, to which Dean muttered aloud himself.

Demons were rare, but like to flaunt, honestly, angels, however, seemed not to. They tried to hide what they were with cloaks, or just keep to themselves. However, this guy had just burst in and made himself pretty obviously known, uncaring. 

The character approached Dean’s, Dean himself doing nothing when suddenly a little pop up appeared on the screen:

[Celestiel00] wants to make contact! Accept?  
Yes or No?

It declared happily, to which Dean gulped, typing to Emeron.

[LedZepp67] fuck fuck the angels messaging me

“Dude fucking answer him! Maybe he wants to join us or something! We could use that power!”

[LedZepp67] dude i fucking doubt it

“Just do it!”

With a deep breathe Dean clicked on the Yes button.

For a moment nothing happened, nothing was said, before a voice, on the verge of being deep, almost gravely, came over his headphones.

“I suggest next time you go after a demon you don’t go for one 30 levels above you, blindly, with no real back up, since changelings aren’t much in back up and honestly, pistols? Do you expect those to do anything against the highest creature of evil there is in this game? Unless you’re wanting to get blown away. Perhaps don’t be so foolish if that is the case.”

And with a spreading of wings the angel took off, the sound disconnecting and the room going silent, Dean’s jaw slack, Sam attempting to cover his laughter at his brother basically getting talked down at for his lack or prowess in a video game. 

“What a fucking prick!” Dean shouted, Sam unable to help his burst of laughter. “Fuck angels!” Dean barked on as he typed away at Emeron, who could only agree with him. No wonder angels kept to themselves, who in their right minds would want to speak to them at all?


	2. Novaks and the Assholes That Hit Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short one this go around simply because I needed to end a place for the next chapter, hope you enjoy none the less!

It was after that point that Dean generally hated on angels within the game. Not that he was a fan before, but all the same. Celestiel00 had successfully ruined the rest of his evening, and considering the guy was still in his ‘allow conversation’ list he could at any moment speak up again and bad mouth Dean and once again put him off from playing. He’d actually logged off not long after, and had avoided it for two days before school and sports and everything else going on in his life needed to be put aside for an hour or two.

Celestiel00 had not messaged him at all since that point. Hadn’t been in his vicinity, had done fuck all, really, and after a week of the angel not showing up or saying a word he went back into his usual game routine. All of it had faded to the back of his mind.

“Care to join us in the land of the living, Mr.Winchester?” 

The sniggers of the class actually had him tuning in more then the irritated face of his language arts teacher. Missouri Mosely was probably one of Dean’s favorite, though hardest teachers to date. She cared about her subject, and wasn’t afraid to call out student’s bullshit half assed writing, something Dean tended to hand in when sports got busy, not that he didn’t want to write something incredibly flowery and awesome like some girls in here.

“Miss Missouri,” Dean said, flashing the woman a grin. 

“That’s Ms. Mosely to you, Winchester, now if you kindly read the poem you were supposed to bring in.” She said simply, hands on her hips. Dean blinked a few times rapidly at her a moment, trying to recall what she was talking about when. Oh. Yeah. Their ‘favorite’ poem. 

Clearing his throat, he stood, the class’ attention on him as he stared at the wood of his desk, thinking.

“Alright,” he started. “Poem. Poem poem. Right!” Clapping his hands together and looking to Ms.Mosely, who looked none too amused, he began:

“No homework, no homework, no homework  it would be lovely, it would be great,  it would be as good as chocolate cake-“

“Sit down Mr.Winchester.” 

“Yeah okay,” Dean said simply, seating himself as the class began laughing once more. Yeah, she’d be ticked, but she tended to give him a second chance because he was an actually bright boy-or according to her anyway-he was just lazy, and didn’t use his time wisely. 

When the class finally settled Ms.Mosely turned to a boy towards the front of the room-opposed to the middle as Dean tended to be-where another boy sat, who looked to Ms.Mosely as she eyed him. 

“How about you next?” She said with a smile. The boy nodded, and as he stood he pushed his thick rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, pulling up with him a book that was dogeared in multiple places, but he opened to a choice one. 

“Don’t ask me about his lips. How they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth, taut like a drum. I want him to make music of me.

Don’t ask me about his hands. The way they are scarred with stories. How they slide thick down his legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.

Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when he looks at me. The way my palms itch for his bones. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way he comes to me.

How I open my mouth to say ‘Yes’ and it comes out ‘I’m sorry.’

His Lips, Clementine von Radics.”

The kid finished, letting his book close and looking to Ms.Mosely expectantly. There’s a certain surprised silence hanging in the air before muffled bit of laughter behind him breaks it. He doesn’t need to turn to know it’s the sleazy asshole, Boris. The guys all sorts of fucked up in the ‘degrades women and thinks ‘fags’ are funny sort of fucked up’. Which is very fucked up.

“His lips, I fucking bet,” he hears Boris mutter, a few bits of laughter coming from two of his equally assholish friends.

“Boy you better shut your mouth before I send you to the principal’s office for being a little smart ass.” Missouri snaps as she points him out, giving him a glare. Boris goes quiet and that earns from small laughs and satisfied looks around the room.

When Ms.Mosely turned her eyes back to the student, who’s been standing all the while, still, back straight and eyes ahead, her expression goes soft. “That was very nice Jimmy. Thank you. I can feel the rawness of that poem. The emotion. It wasn’t flowery and soft. Very good. Well done.” She gives him a nod and Jimmy silently sits down, eyes on his desktop where be pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose again.

Jimmy Novak isn’t a popular guy. Dean remembers when the guy came to the class as a new student around October. He’d been the news for about a week, since he didn’t exactly have a usual background. The Novak’s-all god new how many of them-were from a poor background in Illinois. One day, according to rumor, a fight broke out between their dad and one of their older brothers, that, in the end, had the brother kicked out. Not too long later the dad took off and never came back. While a few of the older brothers were of age to be on their own the rest of them, Jimmy included, were put into a home in Kansas, or auctioned off between foster homes. 

A few of Jimmy’s siblings were at the school, and he mostly stuck to them. Dean didn’t honestly pay them any mind. The lot were sort of weird and very to themselves and eclectic in personalities. Jimmy being in that lot as well.

Dean turns his eyes to his poetry book they’re currently going through and the class goes on.

Any sort of thoughts about Jimmy or the Novak’s doesn’t cross his mind until after practice. He’s showered and dressed out of his uniform when Sam is suddenly sprinting up to him, the gangly teen practically knocking the two of them back. Dean doesn’t have much a chance to question what’s going before Sam is gripping his shirt and trying to tug him off.

It’s not so much all that that really has his attention. It’s the signs of a scuffle that are now covering his little brother. Dirtied jean’s, some scrapes on his arms, but most of all it’s the remnant of a punch that is even now showing signs of bruising as his eye is starting to swell. 

Dean doesn’t think before he’s bustling towards where Sam had run from, his brother and Benny following after. He hears before he sees the sound of a fight still going on. The grunts and curses and the scuff of movement on pavement.

What he’s actually sort of shocked by in this situation is who it’s between. There’s three guys surrounding two, one curled up against a wall while the other stands before him towards the three, defensively. 

“Hey!” Dean shouts before he can stop himself, and Boris with his two assholes friends turn to him.

“Aw, did baby Winchester run off to get his big brother. I’ll tell you what I told him. Fuck off. This doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Boris spat.

“You gotta admit three against two ain’t all that fair though,” Benny then piped up, a glare gracing his features. Boris looked a bit put out by the larger guy, but still sneered.

“Look i’m going to give you one more shot to go-“

“Oh like we’re the ones that are out matched here,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes as he approached the lot of them. Of the three of them there’s Dean and Benny, with Sam and as it seems the fight for the other side, Jimmy Novak, eyeing them, bruised and batter, but seeming to have gotten a good few hits on the three guys before him regardless.

Boris seems to think this over before scoffing and gesturing sharply to his friends and they start heading off. None of those that remain move until they’re out of sight, where after Jimmy instantly turns to the figure pressed to the wall. 

“Are you alright?” He asks the kid, who uncurls from the wall, obviously having taken quite a few hits, considering his busted lip and bleeding nose.

“Yeah i’m alright Ca-er Jimmy.” He says and gives a weak smile that Jimmy attempts to return as he then tries to help the guy up.  
Sam approaches then, frowning. “Alfie, you okay?”

“Alfie?” Dean mutters before he can stop himself and oh boy, he might’ve taken a moment to admire how freaking blue Jimmy’s eyes were if they weren’t currently shooting daggers in his direction. 

“Dean,” Sam chastises, sending a brief glare at Dean before turning to Alfie again. “Are you alright though?”

Alfie gives a small laugh, waving off Dean’s comment all together. “Yes, i’m fine. Thanks to you guys.” His gaze turned to Jimmy, lacking humor but with an obvious softness. “No offense. But three on one wasn’t all that fair.”

Jimmy gave a half hearted shrug. “I couldn’t let them do that to you, especially because Boris did it to get to me,” he sneered with the name, eyes averting a moment. Alfie frowned, taking a limping step towards the other, in which Jimmy turned towards him, obviously concerned and bringing his hands out to support the other.

“Get to you, what for?” Dean pipes in again and while the expression is less hostile the blue of the others eyes still puts him off. Jimmy still keeps a firm hold on Alfie as he speaks.

“Class today? You were there Dean, i’m surprised you didn’t put two and two together. Apparently Ms.Mosely got him into further trouble for the things he said to me.” The tone was bland, as if stating off facts that Jimmy assumed he’d already knew, though even with him listening he still found his name out of the others mouth incredibly weird. 

No one waited for Dean to catch up, instead, Castiel brought an arm around Alfie, sending Sam a small smile. “We better get home, our parents wont be thrilled as it is us showing up like this.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sam said simply.

“Thanks, again,” Alfie chimed in before the Novak’s headed off. Sam was frowning as he watched them go, Benny and Dean doing much the same. 

“Why exactly was that Boris kid pickin’ on them again?” Benny asked, turning to Dean.

“Kid read some flowery poem to the class, kissing dudes, romantic, the she-bang. Not sure what he expected, someone was probably going to say-hey!”

Dean lifted a hand to rub at his head where Sam had smacked him. “The hell was that for?” He barked, eyes narrowing.  
“For being no better then Boris,” Sam was glaring outright, moving to his backpack that he’d tossed aside probably when he’d first gotten there, and hiked it up his shoulder, heading for the parking lot.

“Oh brother you are in the dog house now,” Benny teased with a smirk, Dean glaring and shoving at the other as he muttered a shut up and followed along.

Things went by as usual after that. The next day, Jimmy was in class-face bruised beyond belief- and Boris was not, neither his friends in the class. No one seemed to mind but no one really asked Jimmy if he was alright either. Not that Dean could chastise, he hadn’t either, though at a point he’d glanced up to find Jimmy looking over his shoulder at him, his eyes moving back to the book in front of him so quick they practically spun.

He went to practice, Sam had gotten over being angry at him after a day or so, and things were fine. It was a uncommon friday night for Dean in that nothing was going on. He’d usually be at a party or out with some chick trying to score, but he wasn’t exactly complaining about getting some quality gaming time. 

It was well into his second hour when he received a message, and Dean stared at it with a hint of hesitance due to who it was from. Celestiel00. He avoided actually opening it for about an hour. That way it could appear as if Dean just missed it. He felt like he could go on ignoring it that way when-

Ding!

Dean’s eyes scanned over his message box as he and a group of his guild members fought some demon aligned werewolves. While the previous message had had no title, this one did:

Sent By- Celestiel00 : “ LedZep67 I am aware that you have been playing the game and are simply ignoring me, please respond.”

His party members would probably throw a fit, considering he’d just clicked out of the game as fast as humanly possible, right in the middle of battle. Was this guy stalking him or something? He hadn’t seen a trace of any angel, what so ever in the game. 

He’d eaten dinner with his family, watched a movie with Sam, and waited for it to possibly be safe before opening the game up again. Most of his guild members were offline, that battle was over and he stood alone in the ruin terrain where he’d stopped previously playing.

The message still blared out at him to respond and he bit at his lip, doing nothing a moment when-

Ding!

An instant message, rather then one to his inbox.

[Celestiel00] The prodigals son returns.

He’d been fucking waiting? Dean felt himself typing without thinking.

[LedZep67] dude are u stalking me????

[Celestiel00] Stalk is a harsh word. Sought out sounds more on point.

[LedZep67] oooook then what do you want

[Celestiel00] To apologize.

[LedZep67] for?

[Celestiel00] What I said to you before. I was told it was incredibly rude of me to do.

[LedZep67] what you mean telling me i suck yeah it was

[Celestiel00] Apologies. I did not mean to be rude.

[LedZep67] yeah right whatever

[Celestiel00] I’d like to make it up to you if you permit it.

Suddenly a window popped up, Dean jumping back as he’d been leaning in as he read and typed at the computer.

Celestiel00 would like to go on a quest! Accept? Yes or no?

Dean’s brows furrowed at the offer. Before he could question it Celestiel00 was beating him to the punch.

[Celestiel00] It’s a higher level quest, going on it will level you up quickly. Any of the major fighting you can leave to me. Consider this my apology.

Dean was ready to say no. He didn’t need some douche bag with wings fighting his fights, especially one who thought he was too weak to handle himself. But rather then decline and tell him to screw off he clicked yes.

He’d prove to this guy he didn’t need anyone to hold his hand for him. He’d be just as much a threat as anyone else.

[LedZep67] so are you going to show your face or what

From the ruins the angel appeared, granted he was now wearing a cloak that covered his wings, but he remembered the look of the avatar enough.

[LedZep67] having you be hiding out there this whole time

[Celestiel00] Perhaps. Shall we begin?

[LedZep67] yeah yeah lets

And thus started one of the most interesting experiences of gaming Dean had ever had to deal with.


End file.
